


Let Jon Rest 2K20

by taylor_tut



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Broken Bones, Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, broken ribs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:35:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24781666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylor_tut/pseuds/taylor_tut
Summary: A short little fic from my tumblr! The request was for Jon trying to function with broken ribs and the others helping him out. Set early season 1.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 193





	Let Jon Rest 2K20

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this and have more Jon whump prompts, feel free to send them my way!!

For not the first time today, Jon curses, winces, and drops an armful of folders as he reaches for something on a shelf, and were it not for the fact that Tim just happened to be walking by at the right moment to steady him, he might have fallen off the stepladder. 

“Woah, you okay there, Boss?” Tim jokes. His tone jovial at first but his smile fades when Jon cringes away from his hand with yelp and almost sways into the shelf of files, only to be saved by Tim once again pulling him forward by the arms. “Jesus, Jon, get down from there before you hurt yourself.” 

Jon nods, one hand clutching his injured side. He’s trying to hide the pain in his expression, but his jaw is tight and his eyebrows are knit tightly together. More telling than that is the fact that he actually listens, allowing Tim to help him down from the step stool and into a chair. 

“I still need to get—”

“I’ll get your damn files,” Tim cuts him off. “When was the last time you took painkillers?”

Jon, obviously believing that Tim can’t see him, distracted as he is on the ladder with the files, lets his head fall back in exhaustion for just a moment before he speaks. 

“Uh, about an hour ago,” he says. Tim frowns. 

“Is it getting worse? Do you think you should—”

“It’s fine,” Jon curtails. Against Tim’s glare, he amends, “when I don’t move around, it’s manageable.” 

“‘Manageable’ is relative, Jon,’ Tim accuses, “and to be totally honest, I don’t think that what you manage is healthy.” 

Jon sighs. He doesn’t launch directly into an argument, nor does he storm away with some muttered complaint about how much work he has to do. Damn. It must really hurt. 

He sits up straighter when Tim approaches with the file folders, but it doesn’t do much to mask the tiredness in his posture, even more pronounced than usual, which is saying something. 

“Have you slept since you got hurt?” Tim asks, and Jon avoids his eyes. 

“It’s, uh,” he stammers, “been difficult. No matter how I lie, it puts pressure on it, and I keep rolling onto my side and waking up.” 

“That sounds painful.” 

Jon shrugs. “Well, if nothing else, it’s given me more time to read, right?” 

“No,” Tim scolds. “Those hours of the day where everyone goes home and rests, those aren’t some kind of secret bonus work hours that no one else knows about. You have to rest, even if you’re not sleeping. Especially if you’re not sleeping.” 

Surprisingly, Jon seems to consider this for a long moment, and Tim sees the opportunity to take the files from his hands, so he does. Jon lets him. 

“I have been rather,” he rolls his eyes, “unfocused, as of late. Between the ribs and the exhaustion, it’s becoming more and more difficult to think clearly.” 

“Come on, then,” Tim says, motioning for Jon to follow. “I’m going to steal some of Sasha’s pillows from the break room. You go lie on the cot. I won’t be long.” 

“How did you—”

“We all know about your secret Institute sleepovers, Jon,” Tim laughs, warm and fond and still the slightest bit mocking. “Frankly, we’re all offended we’ve not been invited. They seem like a real riot, considering you always look like you’ve been up all night afterward.” 

Jon grimaces. “Right,” he mumbles. “Really, Tim, you don’t have to do this. I can just go home—”

“And stare at the walls until you clock back in here tomorrow morning? Yeah, sounds like a great plan. Very productive.” He’s gentle with Jon as he herds him toward the spare room, then to the cot. Jon is about to argue further when Sasha comes to the door, her arms full of pillows and a soft, plush blanket. Her face drops from an excited grin into a confused frown. 

“Oh, Jon’s joining us in the pillow fort this time?” she asks. Jon gapes. 

“You two are building pillow forts while you’re supposed to be working?” 

“Of course not!” Sasha argues. “I’m a professional!” Under scrutiny, she crumbles with a sheepish half-smile. “Sometimes Tim, Martin and I have our lunch in it. We’ve gotten quite good at constructing them.”

“And even better at tearing them down as if nothing ever happened so that the Boss doesn’t find out,” Tim adds, giving her a pointed glare, but there’s no heat to it. He’s been arranging the pillows around Jon: a flat one under his shoulders, one under his knees, and the rest around his sides, nestling him loosely enough that he can still move, but still sufficient to keep him from rolling onto his sides. 

“How do you feel?” Tim asks when he’s done, and because Jon can’t bring himself to say he’s comfortable and warm and taken care of, he rolls his eyes. 

“Like a glass vase packed in a shipping box to keep from breaking,” he replies, and Sasha actually laughs. He’s pretty sure she’s never done that in response to something he’s said before. 

“Oh, God, Tim, he’s making jokes, now?” she asks in feigned horror. “Maybe we ought to check his head as well, make sure he’s not concussed.” 

The blanket is placed over him and the pillows both, and it’s at this moment that Jon realizes just how tired he is. 

“Comfortable?” Tim asks, but since Jon’s only reply is to allow his eyes to slip closed, Tim motions with his head for Sasha to head out of the room and follows her out. “Have a nice rest, Boss.” 

Jon smiles ever so slightly. “Thank you,” he calls, and if Tim hears it, he doesn’t make a scene. 

And Jon falls asleep.


End file.
